EDITOR'S CHOICE

By day, Shari L. Fields is an account executive with Questar Inc., a Chicago video production and distribution company. But at night, she becomes Jamila Sharif, a belly dancer at restaurants, nightclubs and private parties around town.

While it's not unusual for businesswomen -- and occasionally men -- to take up belly dancing for enjoyment or exercise, Ms. Fields is among the very few to turn it into a second career. And for others who do, such as her friend Adri Simeran, a dancer since childhood who teaches health and jazz, ballet and belly dancing at city schools, the day and night jobs typically are related.

Ms. Fields, who has a master's degree in communication from Northwestern University, never took a dance class of any kind until four years ago, when she was 27.

"I started because a friend said belly dancing was fun," she explains. "I'd been a percussionist and piano player in school bands, and the unique and very varied rhythms of Middle Eastern music fascinated me."

She jumped in with both feet, soaking up three and four lessons a week.

"Most of my training is in the Egyptian style, which is more subtle and less blatantly sexual than, say, Turkish," she says. "But I try to add the flavor of the culture of my audience."

The idea of dancing professionally evolved gradually. "I did a couple of not-for-profit shows about 2 1/2 years ago, and going pro seemed like the next step," Ms. Fields recalls. "I booked my first party just before a trip to Turkey, where I bought some costumes. When I came back, I dropped off business cards at the Arabic night clubs, and two of them called within a week."

Noting that her hand-beaded, elaborately fringed costumes can cost up to $1,000, Ms. Fields estimates that she averages $100 to $150 a performance, depending on tips. Besides gigs at clubs and restaurants, she books about 10 parties a month and says she likes weddings best.

"The dancing is the classiest you can do, and I like the opportunity to share in a special occasion -- and help make it special."

A minister's daughter, Ms. Fields says the hardest thing about being a belly dancer is that people have misconceptions.

"They think it's like being a stripper," she points out. "I've worked to earn a good reputation. . . . I don't drink alcohol with customers, and I let them know I'm married."

She adds that her father initially disapproved, but her husband has no problem with her dancing.

Her favorite restaurant to dance at is A La Turka Turkish Kitchen.

"I love the fact that I can dance throughout the dining room and there's no barrier between me and the audience, unlike at Arabic clubs, where I dance on a stage," she says. "People bring their whole families, and the owner treats me with complete respect."

Metin Kurtulus, owner of A La Turka, observes that being American is a potential disadvantage for a professional belly dancer, because it's so difficult to

really understand the music and songs of another culture.

"But Jamila has the essentials," he says. "She's nice-looking, she follows the rhythms of the music and she knows how to entertain people."

Classes in belly dancing start in mid-January at the Discovery Center (773/348-8120) and the Park Ridge Park District (847/692-5127), where it's called "Egyptian folk dancing" and is taught by Tery Souri, Ms. Fields and Ms. Simeran's teacher.